


Striketober - 2020

by BlueRobinWrites



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, Striketober 2020, except one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:21:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26750536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueRobinWrites/pseuds/BlueRobinWrites
Summary: Welcome to my series of drabbles for Striketober.Some are connected...and I've tried to put them in the order they work best.I hope you enjoy!
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 220
Kudos: 173
Collections: Striketober | Cormoran Strike Fictober 2020





	1. That doesn't count.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really excited about these, mainly because I ACTUALLY FINISHED A PROMPT LIST!!! 🙌🏻
> 
> But also because I wrote all 31 of these in one night, during writing sprints in our Discord server. 
> 
> All of these were born between 9:30 and 1:45 am and it's literally the most writing I've ever managed in one night. 
> 
> I've changed a word or two here, but for the most part, these are exactly as they were written that night. 
> 
> Special thanks to @foreverhalffull, @hidetheteaspoons, @pools_of_venetianblue, @mcclinds, @seebeestrellacott, @bookmousegirl, @midnightphoenix, and anyone else that I've forgotten who was in the sprints that night. You guys stuck with me and kept sprinting to help keep me on track and I am soooo grateful.

His stubble rasped against her lips, as he drew back. 

His thumbs spread across her cheeks slowly.

And his eyes remained on hers as they continued to breathe with their faces close enough to touch. 

“That doesn’t count,” he whispered. 

“Doesn’t count as what?” she asked, still dazed by the feel of his lips on hers. 

“As our first kiss. Doesn’t count. That wasn’t it,” he said, his eyes glittering intense and dark above her. 

“Oh,” she breathed. “Well when will that happen do you think?”

He tucked his hand deeper into her hair. Fingers tightening slightly.

“How about now?”


	2. What time is it?

She looked up from the notes she’d been reading over. Rolling her head on her neck, and arching her back, she blinked blearily at her partner across the desk between them.   
He was hunched over his own files, eyes fixed on the photographs of the crime scene he was searching for clues.   
He didn’t look up, but he grinned as he heard her shifting in her seat.   
“What time is it Ellacott?”  
“Half ten. Want some tea?”  
“Could do.”  
“Be right back.”  
As she walked through the door, he called, “Bring biscuits too.”  
“Honestly, Strike. As if I wouldn’t have..”


	3. Want some company?

She picked up her bag, stuffing her leather notepad inside and grabbed her coat from the rack by the door.  
He sipped his tea, standing at the kitchenette, and watched.  
“I’m on Princess tonight. Don’t forget,” she reminded him as she wound her scarf around her neck.  
“I know.”  
“You ok?” she asked. He’d been quiet today.  
“Oh. Yeah. I’m fine,” he sipped his tea again.  
Opened his mouth.  
Closed it.  
“What?” she asked, tilting her head to look at him.  
“Well, I just wondered.”  
“Yes?”  
“Would you, maybe, want some company? Tonight?”  
“I’d love some,” she grinned.  
“OK then.”


	4. Are you warm enough?

They sat side by side in the front seat of his BMW. Her lap was filled with a camera and binoculars, but her hand was resting between their seats, holding a bag of crisps for them to share.   
He glanced down, reaching to take a crisp, and noticed that her hand was shaking.   
“Are you warm enough?” he asked. They’d chosen to turn the car off so it wouldn’t be obvious someone was waiting in it.   
“I’m fine,” she answered.   
“It’s just...You’re shivering.”  
“Not because I’m cold.”  
“Oh?” A wicked grin crossed his face. “Why then?”  
“Oh! Don’t fish.”


	5. What are you smiling about?

He glanced up from the desk as she walked back into the room, carrying two mugs of tea, with a plate of biscuits balanced on top of hers.  
He sat back and smiled as he watched her.  
“What are you smiling about?”  
“You.”  
“Me?”  
“Yes. You.”  
“And why, exactly, are you smiling about me?”  
“No particular reason. Sometimes I just smile thinking about you.”  
“Oh really?”  
“Sometimes it’s just nice to know you chose me. This. Us. Biscuits and tea. Late nights.”  
“Ah yes. Well, don’t forget the kisses.” she dunked a biscuit in her tea. “I quite like those.”


	6. Don't move

She was turned slightly away, her mug cradled in her hands. Sunlight streamed through the window setting her bronze hair aglow, and stopping his breath in his lungs. 

As usual.

“ _ Don’t move _ ,” he thought.

He wanted her to stay like this, just like this. 

“Don’t move,” he rasped.

She stilled.

“Hmmm?” she tilted her head.

“You,” he said simply.

“Me?”

“You’re so beautiful.”

She scoffed.

“No don’t,” he moved toward her.

Took her mug and set it aside, before cradling her face in his hands.

“I’m in love with you, Robin,” he whispered. “And I couldn’t not tell you anymore.” 


	7. It sounded better in my head

And now there were tears in her eyes.

He hadn’t meant to say it like that. 

Three days after their first kiss.

Before he’d even taken her out properly. 

_ “You fucking idiot,” _ he cursed himself.  _ “You blathering fucking idiot.” _

“Robin, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“You didn’t?” she sniffled. “You don’t love me then?”

“Fuck!” He gasped. “No. I do. God. Yes. I meant to do this differently. Shit.” He took her hands. “Listen, it sounded better in my head.”

“It sounded lovely to me,” she said.

“Yeah?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” she whispered back. 


	8. Where does it hurt?

He bent over her, his hands sliding into her hair, fingers cupping her scalp, probing for knots.  
“Shit!”  
She’d fallen down the stairs as they’d discussed where to go for dinner.   
She’d glanced back with a laugh and then— she’d just tumbled down.  
She stirred, as though to get up.  
“No. Wait.” His hands left her head, sweeping over her limbs, feeling for broken bones. “Where does it hurt?”  
“Everywhere,” she groaned.  
“Nothing broken. Let me help you up.” He grasped her hand and pulled her to her feet.   
“They finally got me. Four years later, but they did it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess this one can count as a smidge of Whump as well...🤔


	9. Don't come in

“We’ve already talked about this, Robin.”   
“I know we have, but I still think I should. I don’t feel right staying here and leaving you on your own,” she fretted.   
“I ran the agency just fine before I met you. And besides you’re supposed to be resting.”  
“I can still use my brain.”  
“I know. But you don’t have to right now,” he soothed.  
“Cormoran!” he chuckled at her outrage.   
“I said ‘Don’t come in’” and I meant it. Don’t come in. You fell down the stairs. You need to heal.”  
“Fine. But you’d better bring me kebabs.”  
“Roger that.”


	10. Is something bothering you?

“Is something bothering you, Ellacott?” he drawled, as she planted her hands on the desk between them and bent putting her face level with his.  
Her eyes were molten silver tinged with blue fire.   
“You mind telling me why you gave Sam the Robinson gig?” she challenged. “We’ve talked about this, Strike.”  
“Come here. I’ve got something much more interesting than that. You’ll be wanting in.”  
“You think?” she snapped.  
“Oh I know,” he drawled again.  
“Let’s see it then,” she demanded.  
“Come around here then,” he said with a smile.  
“I’m not sitting on your lap,” she snarled.  
“Pity.”


	11. Is that even possible?

“I don’t know, Strike. That seems a little far fetched.”  
He looked at her in astonishment. “You doubt me?”  
“I do. Yes,” she confirmed.  
“How dare you!”  
“Honestly. How could you expect me to believe that? Is that even possible?” she scoffed.  
“It absolutely is. And if you’d stop squirming I’d show you.”  
She squealed and rolled away from him.   
“There’s no way you could ever convince me that you could give me an orgasm that way.”  
She stood, and brushed her hands down the front of the sweatshirt she’d stolen that evening.  
“Well if you’d hold still...You’ll see.”


	12. Isn't this what you wanted?

Her eyes blurred with tears so that the only thing she could see was blobs of green and red.   
“I don’t understand. Why are you laughing?” he asked, snickering at the snorts she was trying valiantly to hold in. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Jack thought you’d love it,” he chuckled, knowing very well that would hit her in the heart.   
“He said you asked for an ornament for our tree. He thought you’d love it.”  
She snuffled.   
Wiped her eyes.  
Grinned at the lopsided and misshapen ornament she held.  
“Of course I do. I love that kid so much.”


	13. How long was I asleep?

Her face in repose is no less beautiful than any of her other faces. 

And he loves all her faces. 

Her happy faces.

Her excited faces.

The face she makes when he touches just. the. right. spot. 

The face she makes as she has a sudden breakthrough.

He especially loves the face she makes when she’s teasing him. The spark and twinkle in her eyes, her smile. 

He never gets tired of that face.

He watches her, her face pillowed on her arms, grateful for these moments of reflection. 

She stirs. 

“How long was I asleep?”

An hour.

“Not long. 


	14. What's in it for me?

“I don’t understand why I have to go as well.”  
“Listen, Venetia…” he drawls.  
“I swear, I will brain you with your own damn leg.”  
“If I have to go help them set up the crib, you have to come along as well. She’s your goddaughter too.”  
“But I have work to finish,” she whines.  
“That’s nothing new, but it’s not every day our Ilsa needs a crib put together. And Nick says she’s been extra weepy this week. So, have fun with that.”  
“What’s in it for me?”  
“Be a good girl,” he winked. “And you’ll find out later.”


	15. I have to do this

“I don’t think that’s what she meant though,” Robin said, flipping the page in the instruction manual. 

“Were you here? Did you hear her?” Strike demanded.

“Cormoran, I know Ilsa is...hormonal,” she trailed off. 

“If you don’t think that woman meant it when she threatened to take my leg and throw it in the street if this crib wasn’t finished by the time she got back, you’d better think again, Ellacott. Fuck!” He cursed as the wrench fell off the nut again. “I have to do this fast or my leg is gone. Now quit snickering and help me.”


	16. Give me five minutes

“Come on Strike!” she shouts. 

“Hang on!” he calls back.

“I’ve been hanging on...I can’t hang on any longer!”

“Just give me five minutes!”

“You’ve had twenty already,” she wails.. 

“So what’s another five?” he chuckles to himself at the noise of frustration echoing through the office. 

“I swear to God, Cormoran Strike! If you make me late to my godchild’s christening I will…” she trails off as she stomps into their office. 

“You won’t be late. Here...Come put your finger here.”

She puts her finger on the parcel as he ties the bow. 

“There. Now I’m ready.”


	17. Who told you that?

Strike enjoyed the feel of her hand in his. 

The skin, soft and cool against his.

She was beautiful in ways he’d never imagined. 

He hadn’t realized she’d be this beautiful.

Her eyes, so bright and mischievous. 

Her hair shone like a halo in the light of the sun.

He’d never known it was possible to love this way. 

It was almost painful. 

But easy.

He’d only felt  _ this _ way about one person before. 

“Uncle Corm’wan? Is it twoo you don't yike kids?” she asked.

“Who told you that?”

“My mommy.”

“Lies. You know you’re my favorite goddaughter, Maisie Herbert.”


	18. Is it working?

“OK. It’s plugged in.”

“Switch on?” he asks.

“Switch is on,” she confirms.

“What about the other switch?” he asks. 

“Oh for God’s sake. What other switch?” She blurts.

“The one next to the thingy,” he says. 

“What in bloody hell are you banging on about?”

“The other switch Ellacott...is it flipped?” he tinges his voice with dryness. 

“There is no other switch you daft numpty.”

“Yes there is. You just have to look for it.” 

“Cormoran Strike. There. Is. No. Other. Switch. Is it working or not?”

He falls apart laughing. 

“You’re looking at my arse aren’t you?”


	19. You scared the shit out of me

“I didn’t mean to though,” he protests.

“But you did, Strike.”

“Yes. But it wasn’t my intention. You know I’d never do that to you,” he pleads.

“Somehow though, you did,” she snaps back. 

“Ellacott, be reasonable,” he cajoles.

“No. You scared the shit out of me. And after all the times you’ve tried to keep me from doing things you think are dangerous,” she throws her hands up. 

He walks toward her, takes her hands in his own, squeezes them gently.

“You know that I would  _ never _ purposefully put myself in danger.” 

“Don’t do it again.”

“Never. I promise.”


	20. Is everything okay?

Walking into the front office, she finds Pat and Strike glaring at something on Pat’s computer screen. Moving to the kitchenette, she flicks on the kettle and gets her mug, turning to ask, “Tea?”

The other two grunt their acquiescence. 

“Is everything okay?” she asks cautiously. They both turn their heads to the side, still not speaking. 

She waits. 

Strike looks up. “Yeah. Keep looking. Let me know what you find,” he says to Pat as he strides to Robin, and takes his mug with a peck on her temple. “What’s up?” he asks. 

“You tell me.”

He says nothing.


	21. Don't lie to me

“What was that about?” she asks, following him into their office.

“What was  _ what  _ about?” he responds, sipping his tea and studiously avoiding her eyes. 

“Is something up?”

“Nothing at all,” he’s the picture of innocence. “Why do you ask?”

“You and Pat. Correct me if I’m wrong, but it’s a bit unusual.”

“She was working the crossword,” he shrugs.

“The crossword?”

“The crossword,” he confirms. 

“Don’t lie to me.”

“Have I ever?” His dark eyes flash to hers and hold them. 

“No,” she concedes. 

“It was the crossword,” he laughs. 

“If you say so,” but she doesn’t believe him.


	22. Is this really necessary?

Twenty minutes later, as the door closed behind Robin, on her way to get lunch for the three of them, he strode quickly to Pat’s desk, resuming his position before. 

“Did you find anything else?” he asked urgently.

“What do you take me for? Of course I did. Look,” she pulled up a second tab he saw was in incognito mode. 

“Good one,” he rumbled.

“I ain’t no dummy. But really, is this necessary?”

“Pat, the woman knows me better than I know myself sometimes. I’m trying to surprise her with this. Now did you find another setting or not?”


	23. Do you want me to stop?

“You’re serious?” she gasped. 

He nodded as he took the ring Pat had helped him decide on from it's box.

“I love you, Ellacott. I want to marry you,” he stopped suddenly. “You love me right?”

“I do.”

“See, you already know your lines.”

“Stop,” she swatted his hand, as he reached up to brush her hair behind her ear.

“Do you want me to stop, though?” he asked softly. “Because, I don’t think I can. Not now. Not when you’re so much a part of who I am. Marry me, Robin. Be my wife.”

Robin’s eyes filled with tears...


	24. Does this help?

“I’m just...I didn’t realize...Cormoran,” she gasped his name on a sob. 

“Listen, does this help?” he bent down catching her eyes. “You’re allowed to say no. You know that right?” he asked softly. 

“We can carry on as we have been, I mean, if you want to,” he stammered to a finish. 

“Really?” she asked.

“Really,” he nodded. “It won’t stop me from loving you. Robin, surely you know by now,” he took her hands in his. “Nothing on Earth could stop me from loving you.”

“OK,” she whispered.

“OK what?

She smiled, “Yes. Yes. I’ll marry you.”


	25. Don't flatter yourself

As she walked past him laying on the couch, watching football, he snagged her hand in his. The one wearing the opal ring she’d allowed him to slide on only two days before. 

“Want to watch the footie with me?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Nope. Not even a little bit.”

“Not even if I rub your feet with my magic hands?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she snorted. “While they are lovely, your hands aren’t nearly magic enough to make me sit through a football game.”

“We’ll see about that,” and he yanked her, giggling madly, down to his lap. 


	26. I'll drive you there

He disconnected the call and heaved a sigh that rattled the papers littering the desk between them. 

“Well?” she asked. 

“Three tomorrow,” he groused. 

“Good. I’ll drive you there,” she nodded.

“What about your cases?” he demanded, brows lowered.

“Cormoran, they’re fitting you for a new leg. I’m not missing that. Sam is covering my afternoon and Michelle is taking the evening,” she snorted a laugh. “Surely you didn’t think I wasn’t going with you. It’s not every day your young man gets a new leg.”

“Ha ha.”

“It’s a big deal.” She soothed. “And I love you.”

“I know.”


	27. I'm scared

He’d had her for 50 years. 

Every morning. 

Every night. 

Through the vacillations of his tempestuous sister. 

Raised two children that weren’t theirs, even as they were. 

Through sadness and joy. 

Through anger and pain.

Arguments.

Recriminations.

Her insisting he put his foot down with his sister. 

Him insisting it wouldn’t do any good. 

Love.

Laughter.

Sorrow.

Pain. 

“I’m scared Robin,” Cormoran admitted. 

“I know,” she soothed. “I know you are.”

“He had her for 50 years. And if he feels anything like what I feel for you after only four, I don’t know how he’ll go on without her.”


	28. What did you want to talk to me about?

As they waited in front of the Herbert’s door, he shifted his hand around hers, engulfing her hand almost entirely in his, and neatly hiding the opal shimmering there. 

“Ten quid says she notices in five minutes,” he whispered. 

“You’re on,” Robin rejoined. 

The door swung open, revealing Nick, who grinned broadly at them as he ushered them in. 

“Ilsa’s in the kitchen,” he said.

They followed him through the house, finding Ilsa humming to herself as she set a platter of vegetables out. 

“Hey Robin! Corm,” she blew them kisses. “What did you want to talk to me about?”


	29. Don't freak out

“This looks lovely,” Robin said, avoiding Ilsa’s eyes. 

“Yes it does. Now, what’s going on?” Clearly she wasn’t going to be deterred. 

Robin glanced at the clock on the microwave, four more minutes and she’d win the bet. 

“Could I have a glass of wine?” she asked, stalling for all she was worth.

“Oh sure. Beer, Corm?” Ilsa asked, without glancing at him.

“Won’t say no.”

“When have you ever?”

He shrugged, “Never.”

Moments later they had their drinks and as they each lifted their glasses Robin grinned and said, “Now don’t freak out,” and she held up her hand.


	30. Look away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this one now, so that I can post the finale at 12:01am...Because I am so excited for that one.

“Oh my god!” Ilsa said in a muted scream as she glanced from Robin’s hand to Strike’s face and back again so fast Strike was afraid she’d give herself whiplash. “Oh my GOD!” 

She dashed around the breakfast bar and threw her arms around Robin, kissing her cheek exuberantly, before grabbing her hand to scrutinise the ring. 

Nick, meanwhile, was clapping Strike on the back, “Well done Oggy! Well done!”

“Nick!” Ilsa squealed. “Have you seen this  _ gorgeous _ ring?”

He ambled over to her, as Strike chuckled at her excitement.

“Isn’t it gorgeous Nicky? I mean, I can’t look away!” 


	31. I can't reach it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally...It's finished!!!
> 
> I'm so excited about this chapter. And I love how it turned out. It refused to be a drabble, and I had to work hard to get it to be a quadrabble...But I managed it. And I really hope you love it. ❤
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me through this. And for leaving me such lovely comments! 
> 
> This fandom is such a lovely little space.

When Strike had proposed two weeks ago she hadn’t realized they’d be here so soon, that the plans would come together so quickly. 

But here she was, dressed in the green dress he’d bought for her nearly five years ago, about to walk down the hall to the registry office, where, for the second time in her life, she’d look into the eyes of the man she loved and say, “I do.”

As she twisted again, trying to reach her zipper, there was a knock on the door, and his voice rumbled, deep and comforting, “You OK?”

“Could you come in a moment? I need your help,” she called.

He slipped through the door and stopped, looking her up and down his gaze pausing, briefly, on the nosegay of pink roses she’d picked up as he entered.

“Christ, Ellacott. What you do to a man.”

He walked toward her, and she turned away from him, showing him what she’d requested his help with.

“Ah,” he said, as he trailed his fingers down the skin showing through the gap in her dress.

“I can’t reach it.”

He brushed her hair away from the opening, so that it fell over her shoulder and stooped to kiss the base of her neck, tugging the zipper, as he did so, slowly...so slowly...up, before smoothing her hair back into place. 

He stayed behind her. 

Not touching. 

But close enough that she could feel the heat of his body.

Hear the rustling of his shirt against his suit jacket as he breathed.

His breath stirring her hair softly.

She dropped a hand from the nosegay and brushed the tips of her fingers against the back of his hand. Needing to be connected to him, to feel his skin against her own. 

He turned his hand over and gently stroked his fingers between hers, twining them together, and squeezing gently, while his thumb softly stroked the side of her pinky finger. 

He stepped closer, so that she just rested against him. 

“You ready?” she asked softly.

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

He bent to kiss her just behind her earlobe, “So am I.”

“Okay then,” she whispered. 

“Have I told you how good you smell?”

She laughed and turned her head, “No. You haven’t.”

“You smell like an angel. Look like one too,” he said as he turned her to face him. 

“Let’s go get married Ellacott.”


End file.
